Fire and a flood There’s power in the blood Of every little lamb: Wonder-working power. – mewithoutYou [Doormouse Sighs]
Let me die in the country that I love the most. – Colter Wall
Do you remember the first time you read through The Hobbit? Trying to figure out the riddles – unless you chose to cheat – trying to think around that one specific corner. And unless you are very clever, you couldn’t quite find the trick, couldn’t quite turn that corner by yourself Until one or […]
(I fully understand the ridiculous nature of wearing a Harris tweed/tattersall combo while wearing loafers without socks – I’m just too impatient for cooler weather)
A riddle – a paradox – a reality that cannot possibly be true until you’re shown the turn – the trick – the way around that specific corner you were so sure was impossible a moment before He opened your eyes.
Chips on the chopping block.
Broken strains of a breaking float through the wall. Small voices and a cappella hymns. My older kids’ Sunday school class was singing this Sunday morning, and I could hear their voices in my class next door.
“Because: The legs feed the wolf, gentlemen.” From Miracle. Attributed to Herb Brooks. Alternate version: